Agony and Healing
by CatS81
Summary: A first person look at Grace's feelings after the end of Yahrzeit...
1. Chapter 1

"Agony"

I sit alone in my office, staring blindly at the pages in front of me. I try to concentrate on the neatly typed text but it's impossible. Sighing, I reach for my mug of tea, grimacing as I realise I've let the soothing liquid cool to an unpalatable temperature. I close my eyes and take a slow breath, concentrating on the sensation of air flowing in and out of my body, the rise and fall of my chest. Ordinarily, I find this action calming, centring but today I gain no such comfort. Today my mind is flooded with thoughts of him. Of her. Of them. Stabs of jealousy make my chest ache as I remember the past few weeks - the heated glances between them, the shared smiles, the flirtatious conversation. He didn't mention her when he told me he was going to New York but he didn't have to. I know she's the reason. She's the reason he has light back in his eyes and a smile creasing his features. And my stomach twists as I realise I love and hate her in equal measures for that. I'm glad she appears to have bestowed on him a sense of peace, of healing and yet…my selfish heart wishes desperately that I could have been the one to give that to him. I squeeze my eyes shut once more as I remember how I watched him from a distance those weeks ago, standing forlornly at Mel's grave. I had taken no more than a few steps towards him, wanting to comfort him, to share his pain. And then I had glanced up and noticed her standing beside him…and felt anguish penetrate to the depths of my soul. I feel physically sick when I think of that memory. It reminds me that he doesn't need me anymore. That maybe he never did.

I glance at the clock on my desk and wonder what he's doing now. Thoughts of him lying in her bed, his body wrapped around hers, are agony to my battered soul and I try desperately to banish them to the furthest recesses of my mind. As his friend, I know I should be happy for him but I can't shake the darkness that has settled about my shoulders. I can feel ugly tendrils of envy seeping into my very core, making my head pound and my stomach churn. Christ knows it's pathetic. And I hate myself for feeling this way.

The sound of laugher breaks me from my self-loathing and I look up, through the glass panes of my office, to see Spencer, Stella and Eve in the main meeting room, engaged in jovial conversation. Their faces are radiant, a sharp contrast to my bitter mood. I catch Eve's eye and watch her expression change from a brilliant smile to a concerned frown. She wanders over to my office and leans against the doorframe.

"Grace? You all right?" She asks, softly.

I force a smile, my muscles aching with the effort. "Yeah. Fine." I lie, desperately hoping her inquisitive, scientific nature won't lead to further probing about my mental state.

Eve's dark eyes narrow and she examines me more closely. "You sure?"

I can't look at her anymore for fear she'll see right through my pretence so I divert my gaze down onto the paper on my desk.

"Absolutely." I say, fighting to keep my tone even and controlled, despite the rising emotion in my chest.

She pauses for so long before replying that I look up to see if she's still there. Her expression tells me that she's unconvinced by my forced affirmatives but I haven't got the energy to reassure her further. She smiles brightly, trying to lift the atmosphere of gloom that so obviously surrounds me.

"Yeah, well, we're going to skive off early to the pub, if you want to join us. While the boss is away and all that…" She shrugs and laughs throatily.

The mere mention of him and his current absence compounds my pain and I take a breath, forcing the ache into my stomach.

"I think I'll give it a miss, if you don't mind." I say, quietly, unable to meet her eyes. "I've got loads of paperwork to catch up on…"

Eve frowns at the excuse, her forehead creasing. "All right. If you change your mind, though, you know you'd be welcome."

I smile genuinely for the first time, touched by her words. "Thanks, Eve."

"See you tomorrow, then."

She gives me a final smile before turning and walking back towards Spencer and Stella. I watch the three of them gather their things and begin to move from the office, each of them waving as they pass me by.

I hold myself together just long enough for them to leave and then sob unashamedly into the silence, my tears falling in rivers down my cheeks, my shoulders shaking. I take a deep breath and my chest shudders with the effort. The pain in my heart is overwhelming. I feel like I've lost him and the realisation of that is almost unbearable. I've never felt so alone…so _isolated_….so _unloved_. The dark thoughts remain with me for the rest of the night.


	2. Chapter 2

"Healing"

I watch him pace the length of the room, backwards and forwards in front of the evidence board, his deep voice raised, his hands gesturing wildly. I watch Spencer and Stella exchange a frown as they sit before him, listening to his tirade. I watch Spencer try to respond, to express his own point of view. I watch Boyd's face darken further at the challenge of his subordinate. I take a deep breath, knowing I should leave the safety of my office to try and restore some calm to the main meeting room. But I just can't. I can't face another argument. I don't think I've got the energy anymore.

It's been a week since he arrived back from New York. I had imagined he would return buoyant, happy, at peace with his demons but…if anything, the opposite seems true. His mood has been black and heavy, unyielding, demanding. As if torment has returned to his soul. I wonder if it's because he's missing her. I sigh in resignation at the thought.

A gentle tapping at my office door startles me from my depressive musings and I look up to see him standing in the doorway, his brow furrowed. I feel my mouth fall open slightly in surprise at his presence; we've barely spoken since his return. I suppose I've been avoiding him. Self-preservation against inevitable confrontation.

I force a smile to my lips, despite the feelings of trepidation in my stomach. "Come in." I say, quietly.

He moves wordlessly into my office and slumps into the chair opposite me, his solid chest rising and falling in a deep sigh, a hand moving across his face to rub his eyes.

I examine him closely before speaking – his crumpled body, his sombre expression, his gloomy demeanour. And suddenly I know what the problem is. But I need to be sure.

"You all right?" I open, cautiously, unsure of how honest he'll be with me, owing to our recent form.

He sighs once more, clearly troubled. "I'm being a bastard again, aren't I." He says, tonelessly.

It's more of a statement than a question. I consider my response carefully. "You seem to have taken a few steps backwards, that's true. Compared to recently, I mean."

He smiles slightly. "You mean I was actually making progress?"

I return the smile, glad he seems prepared to communicate. "Well, a bit."

His smile broadens briefly at my gentle teasing before he sobers again. I take a breath, wondering how to broach the subject more deeply.

"So, is it just residual jet-lag?" I ask. "Or something else?"

His hand moves to the back of his neck, caressing his obviously strained muscles. "It's…Sarah." He mumbles, softly.

The mention of her name causes sudden, stabbing pains in my heart but I force myself to ignore them. "What about her?" I ask, gently.

He sighs, his frown deepening. "It's over."

The confirmation of the news I had suspected sends thrills prickling through my body, followed by immediate guilt at my instinctively selfish reaction.

"I'm sorry." I say simply. And, in some respects, my sentiment is genuine. I hate to see him so unhappy.

"So am I." He says. His voice is quiet, melancholic.

"Her idea, then?" I ask, knowing the answer but needing to check, somehow.

"Yeah…" He affirms.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Well, there's not really much to say. She doesn't want a long distance relationship and neither of us is prepared to move, so…" He breaks off and shrugs.

" I see."

He looks down at his hands. "I've been taking it out on the team, haven't I."

I nod slowly before replying. "At least you're recognising that you're doing it now. That's a big improvement."

"I've only got you to thank for that."

His gentle admission is like a soothing balm to my broken soul and I feel tears begin to form at the corners of my eyes, pressure in my throat.

"You're welcome." I manage finally, wanting to say more but unable to articulate the words.

We sit in a comfortable silence for a few moments and I feel relief pulse through my body at the realisation that our bruised relationship at last appears to be healing. I hear him take a breath, as if rousing himself from his thoughts.

"Well," he says, beginning to stand. "I'd better leave you to it."

I smile and rise to my feet with him. Suddenly and without thinking, I reach across the space between us and take his hand in mine. His skin is warm and surprisingly soft. I run my thumb over his knuckles, learning their landscape, feeling my body begin to tingle at the contact.

"If you want to talk…about anything…." I murmur, softly.

The smile he gives me takes the breath from my lungs and leaves me with a deep longing in my chest.

"Thanks, Grace." He says, before adjusting my hand in his so that our fingers are interlaced.

We remain still for several seconds, our hands joined above my desk. To my mind, it's a symbol of renewal, of unity, of trust. The things I had feared lost between us. My heart soars as he squeezes my fingers tenderly before releasing my hand and walking from my office. I can't help the smile that spreads across my face as I sit back down, my eyes following him as he strides back across the main meeting room. Maybe we haven't completely healed just yet. But somehow I know we're both on the road to recovery.

The End


End file.
